


This Love

by chucknovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x12 coda, 7x17 coda, Dean loves Taylor Swift pass it on, I just get emotional about 7x17, M/M, Mentions of previous major character death, also sort of, basically I took Dean listening to Taylor Swift and ran with it, pining!dean, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucknovak/pseuds/chucknovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so Dean Winchester likes Taylor Swift. Like, enough to buy her album. But it's not like he spends his time listening to her songs and relating or getting emotional or anything.</p><p>Except he totally does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Love

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since 1989 came out, I always related the song This Love to Dean and Cas. Then Dean turned up Taylor on the radio in 10x12, so naturally I jumped on the opportunity to write this.

Okay, so Dean Winchester liked Taylor Swift and her music. So it was catchy; sue him. It wasn’t like he sat in his room contemplating the lyrics and _relating_ to them or anything.

 

Except he totally did.

 

It started with songs on the radio. And no, Dean didn’t change them, because they were upbeat and, well, happy. But then Sam caught him singing along to them. Dean hadn’t even fully realized he was doing it until it was pointed out to him.

 

Then one day he was out alone on a supply run. He was at some all-purpose chain store when a display caught his eye.

 

 

He tried to tell himself to walk away when he realized what it was, but it was no use. Pretty soon the CD – the deluxe edition, at that, because life is short – was in with the beer and the health food. He considered making an excuse about the album being for a nonexistent niece or something, but as the clerk checked the item he realized that he really didn’t give a damn.

 

He listened to it the whole way back to the bunker. The first track, one about New York, was one he’d never heard before. He was only listening casually, musing about taking a trip to New York before the Mark got too bad again, when a certain line caught his attention.

 

_And you can want who you want; boys and boys and girls and girls._

 

Dean didn’t know why the line had his lips twitching up into a small smile; I mean sure, he knew he felt a little something for guys sometimes, but he’d come to terms with that – internally, at least. He didn’t see a “coming out” or anything in his foreseeable future, but that didn’t mean a single line about acceptance of love in all places should get him so sappy and introspective.

 

It got worse when he got back to the bunker, uploaded the album to his iTunes, and really _listened_ to it, every song. Particularly a song by the name _This Love_.

 

It was a softer song, which made Dean want to skip it at first, as he’d been enjoying the upbeat tone of the album thus far, but once the words starting flowing Dean was almost overwhelmed by the beauty of the sound; never did he ever think he’d find a pop song so beautiful, but it was a nice shock. However, Dean knew he was in pretty deep once the lyrics starting having an effect on him – making his heart twist as he stared wistfully into the void, pensively contemplating his life, the works.

 

The first line of the song that really got him was, _skies grew darker, currents swept you out again, and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone_. Haunting images of a corrupted angel soaked in the black blood of purgatory’s worst descending into the reservoir infiltrated Dean’s mind. He clenched his fists, trying to shake the thought from his mind – however, the next few lines didn’t help to pull his mind from the angel whom he’d lost so many times before.

 

 _In silent screams,_  
_in wildest dreams_  
_I never dreamed of this_  
  
_This love is good, this love is bad_  
_This love is alive back from the dead_  
_These hands had to let it go free_  
_And this love came back to me_

 

Dean tried not to let his emotions get the best of him, he really did. But his efforts were futile. Soon enough there was an ache in his chest and a horrible sense of dread and strange nostalgia overcoming him. He thought of all the times he’d thought he’d lost Cas, only to have the angel sweep back into his life each time. But of all the times his angel had returned to him, one stood out far more than the others, for it was different; it was bittersweet where the others were a cool relief, a rush of hap hazardous faith. This one time was different, however, because it had struck him so horribly by surprise.

 

He’d spent months drinking himself into a stupor, trying to keep his mind off of the friend who’d betrayed him, then died right as a glimmer of reconciliation had just begun to glimmer. He’d drifted through months of endless research and constant nightmares, waking to empty bottles and feverish chills. It was all washed away like the tide in a wave of blue, standing at the foot of a suburban porch, a blue sweater wear a tan trench coat belonged. He remembered the fear, confusion, and relief in vivid detail. He remembered feeling like he was going to puke, wanting to cry and throw punches, but also wanting to run into his friend’s arms and bury his face in his shoulder.

 

But he hadn’t done any of that. He’d repressed his feelings and treaded carefully, like he always did around Cas. Because Cas was different; Cas was special. And Dean didn’t know what to do with that.

 

And now Cas was slipping from him again, fading slowly away, and Dean could barely control himself and his blinding bloodlust, much less help out his friend. He felt useless, helpless, scared. Because for all the downs they’d been through, the ups more than made up for it. There was little Dean wouldn’t do for the angel who’d gone out of his way countless times to do so much for the hunter.

 

 _Tossing, turning, struggled through the night with someone new_  
_And I could go on and on, on and on_  
_Lantern burning, flickered in my mind only you_  
_But you're still gone, gone, gone_

 

These lines left a bad taste in Dean’s mouth. There’d been many nights he’d sought comfort in places he’d known none would be found, distracting himself with alcohol and women when deep down he knew it wasn’t what he needed. He longed for dark hair and blue eyes, ached to hear the familiar flutter of wings too magnificent for this plane of existence, craved the gentle caress of hands that had slain and healed thousands. But he always came up empty handed. So he settled.

 

 _Been losing grip_  
_on sinking ships_  
_You showed up just in time_

The mark on Dean’s arm burned like a brand, reminding him of the monster he’d been, the monster he was ultimately becoming again. He could practically feel phantom traces of grace containing him, strong arms binding him and bringing him back down to earth.

 

 _This love is good, this love is bad_  
_This love is alive back from the dead_  
_These hands had to let it go free_  
_And this love came back to me_  
_This love left a permanent mark_  
_This love is glowing in the dark_  
_These hands had to let it go free_  
_And this love came back to me_

Dean’s skin tingled once again, but it wasn’t his forearm this time; this time the sensation spread across his left shoulder. He absently rubbed a hand over the bit of shoulder where a branded handprint had once made its mark. Dean shuddered at the thought. He hadn’t been a fan of the handprint when he’d first had it, naturally – not only was it a scarring mark of an unfamiliar being, but it also carried a reminder of his time in hell. However, he stopped minding it after a while. Maybe it had to do with his growing trust in the angel who’d raised him from perdition, or perhaps he’d just grown used to it. Whatever the case, Dean found himself almost missing the mark Cas had left on him. It had sort of felt like a tie to the angel in a way, a connection that was severed when it was healed.

 

The new scar on his arm burned then, reminding him of all the time that had passed since Castiel had saved him from hell. He laughed humorlessly as he realized he was pretty much right where he’d started with Cas. There had been plenty of times when Dean had let his imagination run wild, had allowed foolish fantasies to swarm his mind. He’d find his stares lingering, and he was conscious of the fact that he took whatever opportunity to touch his angel, even just a hand on the shoulder, in a desperate search for a grounding force. But he didn’t dare ask for more than that, he couldn’t; he knew Cas cared about him, but he’d sacrificed so much for Dean over the years – he knew he couldn’t ask him to love a murderous wreck.

 

So he’d take what Cas was willing to give him. And that wouldn’t be enough, but it would have to be.


End file.
